One Year Later
by KateScribbles
Summary: Set post-series; an epilogue for Season Five. Michael and Sara reflect on the past and look forward to the future.


Michael pulled up to their home with a thrill of satisfaction; he'd longed to return ever since he'd left two days prior. This was the longest they'd been apart since he'd returned to them and it had been very difficult for him to leave and even tougher for them to watch him go. He emerged from the driver's seat, stretched briefly and rolled up his shirt sleeves to reveal tanned skin which was once again free of ink. After collecting his luggage he hastened to the front door, left his bags in the hallway and went in search of his wife.

He found her gazing at the ocean, arms resting on the wooden ledge which ran the length of the veranda at the back of their house. It was late in the day and the sun was sinking towards the horizon, casting red-orange rays over the sand and across Sara's body. Michael paused to watch her; he'd missed her terribly, despite speaking each evening and exchanging numerous messages throughout the day. It had been many years now since he'd been able to fully settle without her near.

He uttered a soft "Hey" from the doorway and Sara twisted around. Her face lit up when her eyes met his and her smile was as bright as the sun behind her. She stretched her left hand out towards him and he stepped forwards to grasp it, bringing her palm to his lips and pressing a kiss to her skin. He gently turned her back around to face the shoreline, flattened his chest to her back, enclosed her in his arms and dipped his head to her neck.

Sara rested her cheek against his forehead and closed her eyes, releasing a heavy rush of air. She felt the tension, which had built during his absence, dissipate at his touch. Michael could tell that he'd been missed by the way she gripped his hands slightly tighter, and pulled his arms slightly closer, than normal. Sara could not comprehend how she had survived seven years without this man, now she struggled when he was gone for little more than forty-eight hours.

"How was the conference?" she asked.

Michael had been in his position for three months. He was exceedingly grateful to his new employers; they had disregarded the large gap on his resume and had offered him the opportunity to return to his career. Thus far, he had managed to avoid attending meetings which would take him away from home; however, he'd felt the need to display some enthusiasm and had agreed to attend the conference, in the hope that it would placate his colleagues for the foreseeable future.

"It was fine…., I recognised a lot, but I've missed a lot, and I have a lot to learn." Michael replied, with a sigh.

"Also, I felt old," he added, after a pause.

"You'll get there." Sara assured him, with a chuckle. Michael smiled at her unwavering faith in his abilities.

"And you're not that old…. it's the grey hair," she told him, with a grin. She felt Michael's smile against her neck and he flexed her fingers in return. He focused his gaze on the bump on which their entwined hands were resting.

"How's our baby girl today?"

Michael pressed the material of Sara's dress to her skin as he moved their hands over her extended abdomen, searching for a kicking foot or a punching fist. Their matching wedding bands flashed as they caught the golden sunlight.

It was Sara who had pushed for them to remarry, only a few weeks after he'd returned. While he had never stopped being her husband, she'd spent four years as someone else's wife. It distressed her to think that she'd recited wedding vows to another, called a different man 'her husband'; she wanted it to be abundantly clear where her love and loyalties lay.

Michael assured her that he had never doubted her affections, or her faithfulness. He continually displayed his acceptance of the life that she'd led while he'd been gone. He understood and supported the decisions that she'd made, knowing that their son was always at the forefront of her mind.

However, nothing he said seemed to lessen Sara's guilt over her perceived betrayal, and he understood the heaviness of the load that she carried, given the many burdens he expected to shoulder for the rest of his life. He would do anything to help lift some of the weight off her mind.

They arranged for the service to take place on the sand behind their new home, they surrounded themselves with those they loved, reciting the same vows they had first uttered nearly a decade earlier. Sara's relief at 'setting things right' was evident and the ceremony reaffirmed their relationship, helping to stabilise their new life, particularly in the eyes of their first born child.

"She has been extremely restless today, I've been to the bathroom forty-six times." Sara replied wryly, as she nudged Michael's hand to the right, chasing their unborn child's movements. Sara felt Michael's chest shake against her back as he chuckled.

Everything about her pregnancy had enthralled him; he was fascinated by the way her body had changed and took weekly photographs so that he could document every alteration. He'd finally purchased the baby books he'd mentioned so long ago and immediately took to quoting random facts and figures, regularly comparing the size of their child to various types of fruit.

Sara relished his enthusiasm; he was doing everything she'd imagined he'd do when she was expecting Mike. During her first pregnancy, she'd had no one to talk to, no one who could help to alleviate her fears, or encourage her hopes and she treasured the fact that he was there and that he shared her wonderment at the life they had created.

"She's getting ready to move out!" Michael declared.

"Only three weeks to go." he added, with awe in his voice.

He felt Sara's body stiffen slightly in apprehension and he tightened their embrace. She turned her head to catch his eye, attempting to maintain a calm expression.

"You will be there," she stated, albeit with a hint of uncertainty.

"I will be there," he confirmed, with resolve.

For the thousandth time a wave of regret and sorrow washed over Michael and he inwardly cursed their circumstances. He hated that his wife felt the need to seek reassurance from her husband that he would be there for the birth of their child. He fervently hoped that time would help to alleviate Sara's underlying fear that he would one day leave them again.

He pressed his lips to her ear "I'm right here," he whispered. It was a phrase they'd both used often over the course of the last year, pulling each other back to the present when they were lost in the past.

"I know." Sara shook her head in an attempt to dismiss the timeworn grief which had temporarily clouded her mind. "I know," she stated again, the repetition of the words helping her to find her bearings.

Their daughter suddenly kicked out and Sara came flying back to the present; she focused on the happiness that she felt at the impending arrival of the fourth member of their family.

At the time of their wedding, they had each privately decided that it was much too soon to add another child to their lives, which were still in a state of recovery. They wanted to focus all their energy on ensuring that Mike felt safe and secure and that he adjusted to the major changes which had taken place in his life.

However, a couple of months later, they had been lying in bed when Sara had furtively whispered; "I told him that I didn't want any more children; that one was enough, but the truth was, I didn't want any more children, because they wouldn't be yours."

She had turned her head towards him, the moonlight catching the glisten of her unshed tears. He moved across to her, lying his body over hers, pressing her into the mattress from shoulders to toes. Sara willingly accepted his weight, wrapping her arms around his back and pulling him even closer. Michael cupped her face with both hands and smoothed her hair back from her face, his fingers danced over her skin and her lips, holding her gaze.

Their daughter was conceived that night.

Sara was so thankful that Mike would have a sibling, not only due to the bond that she'd witnessed between Michael and Lincoln, but due to the abject despair and wave of loneliness that had washed over her when she'd told the police officer, at her father's home, that there were no family members to call - she was the only one left. She never wanted Mike to experience that heartache.

She also longed to experience the joy of early motherhood; there had been too many dark days when Mike was small, where she had struggled to cope with her grief. She sometimes wondered how she had managed to stay afloat and then she remembered her drive; the little boy who had looked to her for everything, with love in his eyes, and the husband she had sworn she would continue on for.

After they'd moved into their new home, Michael had spent weeks pouring over Sara's photographs, diaries and videos, desperately trying to catalogue all that he had missed, to fill in the blanks and to get to know their son. Sara sat with him, adding context and further anecdotes to everything he looked through.

She also told him of the events that didn't make it into their, or anyone's, family album.

Mike had been admitted to hospital for two nights at the age of three. While stationed next to his bed, with her fingers resting against his hot forehead, Sara had imagined Michael in the chair beside her, running his fingers through her hair in quiet reassurance; a source of strength when she'd felt helpless.

Another night she'd been unable to stop Mike from crying. He'd only been a few months old and she'd tried everything: bathing, feeding, changing and he would not settle. She walked away from him, leaving him crying in his crib. Sara had sat on the floor against her closed bedroom door with her hands over her ears, her whole body heaving with the strength of her sobs. She was completely overwhelmed by the endless demands of single parenthood. She was exhausted and she longed for Michael with an intensity that made her chest ache.

She had assured Michael that no more than five minutes had passed before she'd returned to their son's side. It had been evident to him that she was still trying to assuage a guilt that was eight years old. Michael offered only support and kindness and she wondered why she'd ever thought he'd present judgement or censure.

During these stories, Michael wrapped her in his arms, offering belated encouragement and reassurances; helping to heal wounds that Sara hadn't realised were still open. They grieved together for all that they had lost and settled into a quiet routine that suited them both.

Sara was pulled from her thoughts when Michael asked; "Where's Mike?"

"If he's doing as I asked, getting ready for bed." Sara responded.

"Can we walk along the beach?" Michael said, bouncing slightly with enthusiasm.

Sara nodded her assent and smiled as Michael pressed his lips to the side of her head and whispered "I love you" as he ran his hand down her back.

He re-entered the house and called upstairs to inform his son that he was home. Michael heard the now familiar sound of Mike's feet hitting the floorboards, as he ran from his bedroom.

Mike shouted an enthusiastic "Hi Dad!" and jumped from the third step into Michael's open arms. Michael caught him and pulled him into a tight embrace, pressing his fingers to the back of his head and rocking him slightly from side to side.

Mike had grown used to his father's bone-crushing hugs; his dad had told him that he was making up for lost time, that every hug was multiplied by ten to compensate for one of the days they'd been apart.

"I missed you!"

"Oh Mikey… you have no idea!" Michael gasped.

Michael pulled back slightly so that he could assess his son's clothing. He noted that Mike was halfway there, the stars and planets on his cotton shorts contrasted with the sweater he'd worn to school.

"Finish getting changed and we'll go for a quick walk down to the ocean before bed."

"Okay, can I bring my rocket?"

A few weeks earlier, Mike had declared that he would be an astronaut when he had finished growing and, naturally, his parents had supplied him with a NASA T-Shirt and Cap, added posters of the solar system to his bedroom walls, and promised to take him to space camp during the summer break.

"Of course." Michael agreed with a warm smile.

He ran a hand over his boy's head before giving him a gentle push in the direction of his room. Mike raced back upstairs and Michael turned to find Sara, with her shoulder propped against the doorframe, watching the scene with unadulterated happiness. He smiled brightly and made his way over to her as they waited for their son.

Mike quickly returned to them, with his most prized possession clutched to his chest. If launched correctly his new space rocket would fly to the water's edge and Mike lingered by the house to ensure that everything was in good working order, before attempting lift off.

Michael and Sara meandered towards the ocean hand in hand. They looked back as Mike started his countdown and applauded loudly as the ship sailed above their heads, landing just short of the golden tinged waves in front of them. Mike whooped with excitement, proud of a successful flight, as any pilot would be.

He ran towards his parents, leaving a shower of sand in his wake. He pulled their linked fingers apart and took Sara's hand in his left, and Michael's in his right. They looked down at him with indulgent smiles, holding on tightly and both smoothing their thumbs across his fingers.

Mike shouted "One, two, three" and they lifted him into the air, his bare feet flying high, silhouetted against the setting sun.


End file.
